


Quite An Adjustment

by Calmerion Anon (angrymermaids)



Series: Calmerion [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Discussion of Rape, Ears, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hair Washing, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrymermaids/pseuds/Calmerion%20Anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the one month anniversary of the Dragonborn's arrival in Skyrim, he finally tells Lydia why he left the Thalmor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite An Adjustment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4295.html?thread=7574471#t7574471) on the Skyrim Kink Meme.

Calmerion had gotten used to it, mostly. The cold. The constant singing and poetry about battle. The trolls and bears and sabercats. The morons proclaiming Talos’ godhood in every other sentence. But when Lydia asked him what he still found strange about Skyrim after living here for one full month, there was one thing that sprang immediately to his mind.  
  
“I’d have to say… the bathing. Or the lack thereof. I’ll never get used to that.”  
  
“So you think Nords don’t bathe,” Lydia said, eyebrows raised, arms crossed over her chest.  
  
Calmerion stretched his legs out in front of the fire. He could sit close enough to singe his socks, and his feet would still be cold. “I didn’t mean it like that.”  
  
“Then how did you mean it,  _my Thane_?”  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he realized that was exactly what he meant. This was going to be another one of those moments, then. Like the time he told Njada he would no more join the Companions than he would bed down with swine, and was “invited” to elaborate on exactly what he was implying.  
  
He didn’t really think that. Did he? Truly?  
  
“I have noticed,” he began carefully, “that there is often a disagreeable odor in the air when I find myself among a crowd of Nords.”  
  
“So you’re saying we stink.”  
  
“No! That’s not what I…” Yes, once again, that was exactly what he was saying. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, which always felt greasy no matter how hard he tried to keep up his usual grooming regimen. Living in Skyrim was like camping all the time. “Perhaps humans smell different than elves do, and I’m not used to it yet?” he offered.   
  
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Now you’ve gone from ‘Nords are dirty’ to ‘humans just smell bad.’ What a change of heart.”  
  
Not for the first time since making that one decision— that stupid, irrational, traitorous, right decision—that had changed his life forever, Calmerion wished the natural order of things was actually as simple as he’d been brought up to believe.  
  
“Gods. Just forget I said anything. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”  
  
“I wonder why you’re always so eager to go to bed with someone you think is dirty and smelly,” Lydia continued, obviously not ready to let him off the hook yet.  
  
“No! Not you. You, my fair housecarl, are lustrous and fragrant,” Calmerion said, because she was, and because he hoped that would be the end of it. Lydia laughed aloud.  
  
“Just my people, then. Thanks.” She headed upstairs.  
  
Calmerion leaned his head back and buried his face in his hands. He could hear her rummaging through drawers, her heavy boots thumping on the loft above. Maybe this would be it, the moment when she finally got fed up with him. Maybe she’d go back to “yes, my Thane” and “no, my Thane,” because that was all she was sworn to do. She wasn’t sworn to like him.  
  
“I wonder too,” he muttered. “Why you’re so eager to go to bed with  _me_.”  
  
Lydia didn’t respond. Calmerion at first thought she didn’t hear him, and then he thought she heard him but was ignoring him. Her footsteps slowed and the loft creaked as if she’d shifted her weight from one foot to the other. After a moment, she came back down with a shallow wash basin, which she set down on the table at Calmerion’s elbow. Still silent, she buried a pitcher of water in the coals on the edge of the fire pit.  
  
“Because I can tell you’re trying,” she said at last. “And no matter what anyone else says, I know you’re a good man. And you’re hot, for an elf.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If I’m clean for a Nord, then you’re hot for an elf.” She brushed a bit of soot from her hands. “I brought things to wash your hair. Unless you don’t think a smelly Nord knows how to do it properly.”  
  
“You’re  _not_  smelly. And… I would… appreciate that,” Calmerion said, his face growing warm. “But you don’t have to.”  
  
“I want to.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.”

While the water heated up, Lydia stood behind his chair, gently combing the tangles out of his hair. He wore it below his earlobes and swept back from a widow’s peak, like a respectable Altmer. He refused to start braiding it like some kind of barbarian, no matter how many ancient Nord legends he fulfilled.  
  
Dragonborn. He still wasn’t sure what that meant or why the gods had cursed him like this.  
  
But Lydia’s attention was smoothing all the knots out of his spine. Every brush of her fingers and the comb made him shiver. The way she touched him, her hands more gentle than her words ever were, reminded him it wasn’t hopeless after all. He was shit at making friends with Nords. But at least he had one, who kept forgiving him when he kept messing up.  
  
He was trying to change. Really, he was. Sure, there were truths that Nords didn’t like to hear—the one about Talos not being a god was chief among them—but he was learning to keep it to himself, and the rest… the rest came hard, but he was trying to see the world in a different light. Wasn’t always easy, though.  
  
“You still haven’t told me why you left,” Lydia said quietly.  
  
“It’s not important.” Calmerion closed his eyes and tried to lose himself completely in the sensation of the comb and her hands.  
  
“I’m curious.”  
  
He sighed. “They told me to do something I didn’t want to do. So I told them to fuck off.”  
  
“I thought Justiciars were the ones giving the orders.”  
  
“Everyone gets ordered around by someone.”  
  
The pitcher of water was steaming gently. Lydia retrieved it and held it out to him. “Tell me if it’s too hot.”  
  
He dipped a finger in. “No, it’s fine.”  
  
She dragged the small table and basin around behind his chair. “Tip your head back a little.”  
  
He did. She poured a little blissfully hot water over the top of his head, swirling his hair in the stream. He let out a long sigh. He was almost embarrassingly easy when it came to people playing with his hair, either beautiful women or handsome men. The bar of plain soap she lathered up was not what he would have used back home, but it was perfectly fine by Skyrim standards.  
  
No. He had to stop thinking things like that. It was perfectly fine, period. Good old soap. Nice and clean.  
  
“Did the Jarl say you had to do this?” Calmerion rather hoped he hadn’t.  
  
“He assigned me to be your housecarl, not your friend.”  
  
“Yeah, I got that. Is washing the Thane’s hair something housecarls are supposed to do?”  
  
“No. This is all me.” Her grip on his head was confident as she rubbed his scalp. “Just showing you that we do actually know how to keep clean.”  
  
“I’m never going to live that down, am I.”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“I’m… sorry.” The apology felt awkward, but it was apparently the right thing to say, because Lydia bent down to kiss his upturned forehead. Maybe he should do that more instead of explaining what he had tried to say and only managing to dig himself into a deeper hole.  
  
They didn’t need to say anything for a while. Lydia kept scrubbing soap and warm water into his hair and he sat quietly, occasionally stretching his back or flexing his toes in pleasure. He would have to find out if she liked her hair touched so he could return the favor sometime. Or maybe she’d appreciate foot massages more. He was good at those.  
  
He already knew she appreciated the truth. And she wanted to know what brought him to Skyrim, as much as he wanted to put it all behind him and start over.  
  
This wasn’t a “favor” in the same way as a nice massage was, but she kept asking. He felt he owed it to her to answer. Not just in return for her washing his hair, but for everything. For the trust and friendship she didn’t have to give him.  
  
“Shortly before I headed for Skyrim, we apprehended some Bosmer refugees in Cyrodiil,” Calmerion began without explanation. “Not a week’s journey from the Falkreath border. Three men and a woman, political dissenters, probably hoping to get asylum in Morrowind. That’s where they always go.”

Lydia’s hands slowed a little. “That’s a long journey.”  
  
“It is. But the Dominion has no sway there, and Hammerfell lets in very few elves. Morrowind is the safest bet.” He clasped his hands loosely in his lap. “They stumbled right on our camp. It was me, three other Justiciars, and our troops. I was the most junior. My commander had the men killed, and then he ordered his soldiers to strip the woman naked and put her in my tent.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Just the thought…  
  
“Why would he do that?” Lydia sounded like Calmerion felt—disgusted.  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a test? A gift, for being such a good little dog? Either way, I wanted no part in it. I marched right up and asked him why there was a woman tied up on my bed. He said she was mine, and that if I didn’t want her, he’d give her to the soldiers.” He glared at the fire, feeling the images of glowing coals and red-traced logs burn into his vision. It didn’t matter that she was a traitor, an enemy, an inferior race, whatever. She was still a person, and maybe that knowledge was what made him ill-equipped for the job in the first place. “I didn’t touch her. I gave her a spare set of clothes and what money I had on me, and told her to run north for the border. I still don’t know if she made it.”  
  
Lydia rested soapy hands on his shoulders. “You did the right thing.”  
  
“It was the only thing to do. I won’t congratulate myself.”  
  
“Your commander found out, didn’t he?”  
  
Calmerion nodded. “The next day, he asked me if I found the woman to my liking. I didn’t answer. He asked me again, and something just… snapped. To make a long story short, I escaped the Thalmor, only to be arrested by the Empire a few days later for totally unrelated reasons. And now I’m here.”  
  
He fell silent. The fire crackled, sending sparks jumping up to the ceiling. Lydia started to knead the back of his neck. His eyes drooped closed.  
  
What a month it had been. Sometimes his old life felt like it was so long ago that it was something out of a half-remembered dream, and sometimes he woke up in the morning expecting to see the ceiling of his tent and to hear his sergeants barking orders to the men outside. His skin still remembered the feeling of black and gold Cloudrest silk, and his mind and body still jumped to attention whenever he heard someone say “Talos.”  
  
“To be honest, that’s… not what I expected,” Lydia said.  
  
“What were you expecting?” He grinned. “A religious epiphany? Because Talos still isn’t a god, I’m sure of that.”  
  
“Ugh. Not this again.”  
  
“All right.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Not saying anything else. But really, what were you expecting?”  
  
“I’m not sure. Maybe something more political. Ready to rinse?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He tilted his head back again. She guided the warm water through his hair, washing out the soap bubbles, wringing from the roots to the ends and when the water finally trickled out, she enveloped his head in a warm cloth that smelled like herbs and Skyrim sunshine.  
  
“Lydia, you are wonderful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he said, his voice muffled. She rubbed and scrunched his hair with the towel for a few more moments before whipping it away. His head felt wonderfully fresh, his scalp tingling, his damp hair steaming dry before the fire. Lydia didn’t comb it into place, but rather buried her fingers into the soft blond peaks and Calmerion wondered if he’d actually been killed by his old commander (or the Empire, or the dragon, or the other dragon, or the Companions) and this was his eternal reward for whatever good he’d done in life.  
  
With light fingers, she stroked the tips of his ears.  
  
That was it, the moment when the low, smoldering heat of her presence flared into intense, needy lust. It had been there the whole time, under the surface, but came to life when she did the one thing she knew he was unable to resist.

“Mmmmf.” He tried to stop the sound that came up from the pool of warmth growing in his belly, but it wouldn’t be contained.  
  
“You like that, don’t you.” Her hair tickled the side of his face. She lowered her mouth to his right ear and ever so gently ran her tongue along the edge. Calmerion gasped—he couldn’t stop himself from making a noise any more than he could deny the effect it was having on him. His cock was straining against his pants. He could feel the blood rushing through his body like wild horses.  
  
“I guess I’m forgiven,” he tried to joke, but Lydia’s hands had crept down over his shoulders to rub his chest and she was nibbling his ear and he could hardly keep a steady train of thought, let alone flirt.  
  
She released him briefly and walked around the front of his chair. “We’ll see about that.”  
  
She had all the ties on his shirt undone and was pulling it over his head before he’d even found a single buckle on her armor. How could she wear that all the time? Luckily, when his shirt was on the floor behind his chair, she took over loosening all the straps and fastenings and suddenly there was a lot of curvy, delicious Lydia in his lap, wearing only her underwear, and that he knew how to take off.  
  
He ran his fingertips up and down her muscular thighs and then gave her ass a two-handed squeeze.  
  
“I am a lucky mer,” he said into the thick, soft fall of her hair.  
  
“Damn right you are.”  
  
She reached down between them for his belt buckle. Calmerion palmed her bare breasts—just right to fit in his hands—and kissed her face and neck and jaw and the heartbeat under his right hand was quick with want. She did smell good, like soap and warm leather and excited sweat and arousal. There was something to be said for the scent of a lusty Nord woman. And everything else about a lusty Nord woman. Actually, there was just something to be said about Lydia, since it wasn’t like Calmerion had any other Nord women as points of reference.  
  
Probably best to keep all of that to himself. It seemed like something he would get in trouble for saying aloud, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.  
  
She tugged at his pants. After some struggling, he managed to kick them off, not bothering to see where they went. Hopefully not into the fire pit, but if that was the case, he could always get new ones.  
  
With a dark smile, she rubbed him through his loincloth, and then she was kissing him, all delicious lips and teeth and tongue that went straight to his head like a fine Alinor brandy.  
  
He slid a hand up the inside of her thigh. She was wet and open and she sighed and shifted her hips when he stroked her with one long finger. She kept massaging his ears, lobe to tip, sending waves of pleasure through his body that all seemed to collect around his cock, and he groaned a little when she bit his lower lip just gently.  
  
“Make me come,” she said, breathing deeply. She rubbed herself against his hand.  
  
Calmerion smiled and kissed her again. He slid one finger in, then a second, and worked her from the inside while his thumb rubbed circles around her clit.  
  
“Like that?”  
  
“Yeah.” She sat up higher and pressed her breasts into his face, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, and his own cock was begging for attention but not yet, he was going to watch her come. He took one pink nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, with teeth, and the noise she made… gods, the things she did to him.  
  
Her skin was soft and slightly damp under his free hand. He caressed the dimples on her lower back and then ran his hand up her spine, drinking in the feeling of her muscles rippling at his touch.

“Lydia,” he breathed. “You are so fucking sexy.”  
  
She clenched hard around his fingers. He looked up and savored every detail of her ecstasy.  
  
Her dark eyelashes fluttered. She arched her back, rolled her hips a little, and bit her lip against the moan that shivered up her body. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. He worked her through her orgasm, watching her twitch and twist and murmur his name until the last aftershocks had subsided and she collapsed back into his lap.  
  
She swept her hair out of her face and gave him a satisfied, breathless grin. Calmerion made sure she was watching when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked her juices off his fingers.  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Come here,” Lydia said. She cupped his jaw and kissed him thoroughly. Maybe she could taste a hint of herself, and the thought made Calmerion’s own body even more impatient for her. He hadn’t realized that was possible.  
  
“Good?” he said between kisses.  
  
“Not good. Great.” She rubbed his chest in hard, purposeful circles. “Your turn.”  
  
Thank the gods.  
  
With a couple of quick tugs, she had his loincloth off. He sighed in relief as his cock was freed from its prison. Without any more ado, she looked him in the eyes and sank down on him, a hint of her pink tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. He gave a rough sigh and took her hips in his hands, rocking gently.  
  
“All right?” he asked. She nodded and leaned in for another kiss, her rolling matching his slow, deep thrusts. She was like silk. Hot, wet silk that squeezed tight around him and made him feel faint and shaky even sitting down.  
  
When they got their rhythm, Calmerion moved faster. He was aching, he couldn’t get close enough to her, she was everywhere around him but he still craved more, and it was an agony so sweet he couldn’t think.  
  
With his head pressed to her chest, he came wordlessly, only gasping. Her arms pulled tight around his neck and then there was nothing, only the sensation of her body and the scent of her skin.  
  
Afterward, still catching his breath, Calmerion held Lydia in his lap, her head buried in his neck. He stroked her back and shoulders and kissed the tender spot under her ear. His own ears were buzzing, overstimulated but very happy with all the attention.  
  
“You know, I changed my mind,” he said after a while, when his breathing had returned to normal and he could make coherent sentences again. “I like Nord bathing habits.”  
  
“So we measure up after all. That is a huge relief.”  
  
“Yeah. Well, I mean, my hair is clean, but the rest of me is all sweaty now.” His smile was full of mischief.  
  
“Hmm.” She kissed his closed lips. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”


End file.
